nasty slang

Rachael is in Junior High now. This has brought a few challenges to our home. Last week in a fun-loving way she said "screw you" to a friend. I told her not to say it and she said it didn't mean anything bad. I told her it meant the same thing as "f---you." She said it didn't either.

I guess they went to school the next day and asked what it means. That evening they told me I was wrong. "F--- you" means what it says. "Screw you," means "hump you." This was supposed to comfort me and make me willing to let them say it.

I told them that all those expressions mean the same thing. They were amazed at my ignorance yelling, "Mom, no they don't. Everyone says 'screw you.'"

I countered with, "I don't."

They let out wails of unbelief. I defended with "I know what humping is, I know what the 'f word' is, I know what screwing is; they are all nasty expressions for the same thing. Can we respect sex between a husband and wife enough to call is something besides any of those words?"

Hannah let out an exasperated sigh, "Mom it's been 8 years for you. Things have changed."

"8 years?," I said.

She said, "YEEESSS! 8 years since Deborah was born. Things have changed."

Hannah's party

Today was Hannah's birthday celebration with a couple friends. We went horseback riding. It was great to see them all so happy.

My 11-year-old Hannah.

Rachael

Hannah Bear

Hannah and friends

ride 'em cowgirls.

Happy Birthday Rachael

Pardon these blurry pictures. I've actually taken pictures of pictures so I could share some sweet photos from years gone by. This is Rachael on her first birthday.

Last night when I tucked Rachael in, I took her face between my hands and we looked into each other's eyes. "Thirteen years ago tonight I was in the worst pain of my entire life," I told her. She smiled approvingly as though she was very pleased to hold that distinction.

Today my lovely Rachael is 12. What delight she's brought to my life and to our home. I'd be lying to say Rachael's childhood was a breeze. She was a perfect baby. She slept well, ate well, cooed contentedly, smiled and laughed abundantly. But toddler years were full of assertion, demandingness, breaking things, and plenty of other reasons for people not to appreciate her. Other children may have said, "NO" more, but Rachael lived "NO." She didn't respect people enough to grace them with the word no, she simply did what she darn well pleased. Daily she'd go to the book shelf in the living room and pull all the books off. When she was finished, she'd fetch a parent to show her work. Matter of factly she'd declare, "no no Racho."

More than a few times I toyed with throwing in the towel of discipline. It seemed nothing curbed her independence, strong will, and steely resolve. Secretly I harbored animosity toward Gordon thinking his genes surely created this cute monster that I loved so much.
Her reputation went before and behind her. Overhearing people talk about her was all too familiar to me. All others seemed to notice were her negative traits. It seemed no one appreciated the traits that were positively wonderful.

She had more energy and strength than is fitting a toddler. She learned to climb out of her crib, to my horror, ridiculously early. Her destructive imagination knew no bounds. When she was a mere 13 months old, she became a big sister. Obviously that meant I didn't have all the time in the world to sit on Rachael to prevent her destructive ways.
When Hannah was beginning to crawl well, Rachael opened the oven door which Hannah promptly pulled up on. Rachael shoved her in the oven and shut the door. Things of this nature were so common-place in our home. She was clever, creative, curious, and energetic. She was full of life, zest, and energy.

Once a neighbor down the street phoned to tell me diapers were flying out an upstairs window. I ran upstairs, where Rachael was supposed to be in her crib sleeping, and found her at the window dropping one diaper out at a time. Yes there was a screen on the window, but she had managed to break it off. The thought that she could have just as easily fallen out the window tormented me for days. Because she looked so cute, I stood quietly in her door as she deposited diapers one at a time out the window. "Bye bye diaper" or "Uh oh" accompanied each flying diaper.

Her toddler years tested every thing I believed as a parent. The hardships began at 1 and grew steadily worse for 3 years. The "terrible twos" were a cake walk compared to the totalitarian threes. Praise be to God, at 4 years old, we rounded a corner. Hard work, which seemed to be producing nothing for a few years, started to bear fruit.

Many years and much delight and joy later, Rachael is the light of my life. She still has that zest and zeal for living. It demonstrates itself in two jobs that she's very good at, a voracious love for reading, an insatiable desire to know more about Egypt and Ancient Greece, a love for family and family time. She still needs less sleep than the rest of us but now I don't worry that she'll burn the house down, flush towels down the toilet, or climb out a window to go exploring.

The traits that made her a difficult toddler are now making her a strong, trust-worthy, wise young lady.

Today we had a most delightful day at the mall. She was loaded with cash and our birthday girl was quick to buy things for her sisters. She is truly delightful.

Those hours of excruciating pain 13 years ago were really quite a small price to pay. I am forever thankful for my sweet Rachael.

Rachael, may you continue to grow to be all God created you to be. May you love Him with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. May you grow wiser with each passing year and may you bring others at least a fraction of the joy you bring me. I love you Darling.

Rachael, 12 years old today. Isn't she a precious one? This photo was taken today.

Happy Birthday Michael

Michael (Poppy) with his grand-daughters.

Yesterday was my big brother's birthday. I thought of him many times throughout the day. I have a wonderful brother, I'm thankful for him and I love him very much. He's a teddy bear kind of guy.

In other news, my little Rachael is a woman now. I hope you can read between the lines and know what I mean. She and I are going out to the Cheesecake Cafe in a while in celebration of womanhood. She's so excited. Womanhood, cheesecake, a little bit of shopping, what's not to love about this new season?

She's a gem. When we talk about names and what they mean, Rachael hears that she is worthy of being worked for for 14 years just like Rachel in the Bible. We talk about Laban's deceit, poor ugly Leah, Jacob's sad predicament. But the bottom line for Jacob was that Rachel was worth 14 years of working for her deceitful, lying, conniving father.

My Rachael will be just as worthy.

I'm about to call Gordon and ask him to bring home something for supper. Since Rachael and I are eating out, the mood to cook for the other three just hasn't materialized. I'm thinking of pulling old grandmother lines. Something like, my hips hurt, my fingers hurt, I can't remember where I put my glasses. Since I am a grandma now, I wonder how far this will get me.

Every season has its benefits. :-)

Shark

Today Rachael had cat food samples to deliver with her papers -- 2 cans per house to be exact. It was a sizable increase of work.

Deborah was up for the challenge and Rachael promptly hired her to assist. Deborah isn't the most work oriented child I've seen. Matter of fact, I praised her ridiculously much just to get her to complete the task. But admittedly, it was indeed a task for such a little one.

I sat in the van musing as I watched them. (Yes, I did a bit of help myself, but someone had to drive.) Deborah had on a sundress that I made for her last summer. She's grown a lot this year. As she struggled with her bag of cat food cans, I couldn't help but smile. Her dress is approaching mini-skirt length, her flip flops looked a bit floppier than they should, her skinny legs reminded me of toothpicks. It was hot and her hair was sweaty and sticking to her head. She has a bit of sunburn and her red face glowed with heat and beads of perspiration. She walked clumsily with her heavy bag of cat food. She was really quite cute to watch.

Rachael who is a wonderful paper delivery girl, would stop every so often to wait for her sister. At first she seemed annoyed with Deborah's speed, but before long it appeared as though she realized the burden her little sister was carrying. After a while Rachael was waiting for Deborah to catch up without the annoyed sighs and rolling eyes. She even suggested that Deborah sit in the van for a rest while she delivered both the cat food and papers.

I was proud.

Deborah is my youngest and watching her get so big is frequently sending me down memory lane. Watching her today, I kept thinking about Christopher and his little boy ways of years ago. What a wittle cutie he was.

He took a big fall when he was 3 and knocked out 3 teeth. That left a pretty big "blank spot" in his mouth for 4 years. He developed a unique mouth and lip movement to fill that empty spot. His lower lip seemed to pass through the gap with every word he spoke. Three of course is an odd number, so the lip went kind of to the side as it passed through the blank spot. It was an interesting lisp. (Lisp isn't an accurate description, but I can't think of one that's better.)

Along about this same time, he developed a shark fascination. He ordered shark every time we ate out. Thinking it was cute, I played along and whispered "chicken nuggets" to the waitress.

Watching Deborah and being reminded of Christopher, I sat in the van trying to move my jaw and lips to imitate the way Christopher said, "shark." I never was pleased with my imitation -- fortunately I don't have three teeth missing. But I enjoyed the mental pictures of Christopher saying "shark" that funny way he did so many times in so many restaurants.

Maid Service

I have been less than energetic for about a year now. Okay, so maybe a year is a stretch, but a good couple weeks isn't. Today, as the house was in need of attention, I hired my sweet Rachael to clean it. She was quite elated with the job (actually it was the pay) and quickly sub-contracted her little sisters to help her.

For a few moments I entertained thoughts of grandeur and wealth before remembering the little servants were my offspring. But even after that realization, I continued to permit the illusion to continue.

Gordon came home and found me on the sofa enjoying a Francine Rivers novel as the girls busied themselves around me. Rachael quickly announced to her dad that I was paying her to clean the house and she had hired the sisters to help. I was feeling more than a tad self-conscious having been caught reclined and reading a novel as the girls hustled and bustled around me.

Looking at me, Gordon shrugged his shoulders and said, "well if you can't afford maids, I guess you can grow 'em."

Eventful Evening at WalMart

My life has been enormously boring and mundane of late. Yawn. My writing has mirrored my life; stale, stagnate, ready for something new. Nothing comes to mind to tell, but I wanted to alert you all that I am alive and well - if boring and mundane are well.

Gordon had a course all weekend so the girls and I stayed home from church. That was the second time for us to do that recently. Since our last church experience, we have had such a hard time "entering in" to the church scene. We found a wonderful church, but there seems to be an insurmountable wall between us presently and us feeling like we have a church home. It has been discouraging, no fault of the church at all. There's just something wrong with us.

Both weekends that Gordon had courses, the girls and I had a worship service at home. Both services left me feeling so good. I can see how people get lured into "worshiping at home" rather than being part of a church family. Anyway, I don't plan to stay out of church. We will "beat" this lethargy that is keeping us distant from the church scene.

I just thought of a story to tell. When it happened, Gordon told me not to blog it. But now that some time has lapsed, I can.

To keep this a little simpler and so I don't have to tell so many needless details, let's call the store WalMart. There were some enormous sales going on so I took the girls to shop for some clothes. As WalMart is, it seemed a safe enough environment, right? Rachael wanted to look at shoes, Deborah and Hannah clothes, I was across the aisle in women's clothes and could see all of them. Have we not all done this? No big deal, eh?

So I start meandering over to the shoe department, going through the purses on my way. I could still see all the girls. (Mind you, before this experience, I wouldn't have had a problem with letting them out of eye sight if they were together and the store felt safe like WalMart.) As I'm looking at purses, Rachael gets really close to me and says, "Mama that guy is following me and he's giving me the creeps." I didn't immediately look for the guy, I said, "Just stay with me." It didn't cross my mind that he was really following her. I honestly figured he was just a creepy guy and I figured "just stay with me" solved that feeling.

I start making my way back toward the children's section where Deborah and Hannah were. They were still in my eye-sight. Rachael got caught up looking at the purses. When I got to the clothes department, Hannah gets near me and whispers, "Mama, that guy over there is giving me the creeps." Now I realized, two kids, who haven't been together to escalate this feeling in each other, are telling me the same thing, I think there is a creep around here. I turned all ears. I asked why he was giving her the creeps and she told me he's following her and trying to get really close. I got her to point him out. I comfort her and tell her that I am right there. She said, "Mom he keeps showing me something and I think he's being dirty."

I am even more all ears now. A million things are running through my head and I'm spitting out questions a mile a second. She said it may be his penis he's showing her and he keeps getting closer and closer.

The creep is aware that I am on to him. I sized him up really well and decided I could take him on and win. I was running all kinds of scenarios through my head from asking him why he wasn't showing me his penis, to slugging him, to tackling him. I didn't know what to do. He started walking quickly toward the entrance. I decide against tackling him, but I holler at a worker to come quick. She comes and I point him out to her and say, "he flashed my daughter." She yells, "He flashed your daughter?" When I confirm that that was what I said, she pulled out a phone and called security.

I didn't know what to do, but I wasn't asked to stay or anything. The man left.

We leave and talk long and hard on the way home. He showed Rachael "something" but she thought it was a toy in his pocket. She said he squeezed it and something pink came out. I don't know what to think, but I know something horrible just happened, but I'm thinking, Is it illegal to show a young girl a toy penis, was it really a toy and not the real deal?, and a million other things.

When we got home the girls told their dad about all this. Gordon gets all the details and then tells me I should call the police and report it "just in case."

With a lot of unease, thinking this was trivial in the eyes of the police and afraid I'd get a condescending, "Lady we have real crime to deal with," I phoned.

The officer took detailed information and seemed genuinely interested. He took all my pertinent information and told me he had already dispatched someone to that WalMart since I'd been on the phone with him. Yes, while I was talking to him, he dispatched someone. I was impressed.

Fifteen minutes later my doorbell rang and there were two police officers at the door. I started apologizing telling them I didn't mean to mislead them, nothing had happened that warranted them coming to my house, blah, blah, blah. He said, "Please understand, to us what happened is very serious. This man is a predator. We don't know what he has done, is planning to do, perhaps abduction,....." Abduction hadn't crossed my mind.

The officers took down everything we remembered. Since I'd sized him up really well to see if I could tackle him, I had a very good description. He said they had 2 units at WalMart viewing the security tapes and looking for him in case he returned. He seemed confident that with the good security WalMart has, the description we had, and the quick reporting of it, they would identify him.

He told me the incident warranted a 911 call and not to hesitate next time. Tackle him, slug him, pound him, whatever it took.

They offered us the police counseling services - counselors who work with children who've been molested. What was a big deal for us 10 minutes earlier was now a BIG deal. We didn't feel the girls needed professional counselling, but I appreciated the offer.

They left and Hannah said, "well I feel a little freaked out." We were able to laugh about it.

It provided incredible lessons for my young girls. We talked and talked and prayed. We talked about the little girls who might not have a mom nearby, what might have happened to them, and many other scenarios like that.

Later when I tucked Hannah in, she asked, "Mama, do you think maybe God led us to WalMart so that could happen to us as a way of protecting other little girls?" I told her she was very wise and it may have all been orchestrated by God.

Rachael and the Flute

There is an emotion that mothers have that as far as I know has never been named. It's a mixture of pride, pity, protection and maybe a few other vague emotions. It happens when we see our children do something in innocence that is so sweet, yet for reasons I don't understand, it hurts us. I remembered one of those today.

When Rachael was three, a new couple started coming to our church. The lady played the flute and quickly became a member of the worship team. One night we were at the church during worship practice. Rachael, who had never seen a flute before, sat on the front row, totally mesmerized. She stared at our new friend throughout the practice.

At the end of the practice session as the musicians started putting their instruments away, Rachael looked admiringly at the new lady and said, "I like your whistle."

Rachael on Susanna Wesley

Yesterday I was looking for something in a box of writing stuff. I came across this note I'd written to myself dated August 2004 when Rachael was 8. It read:

Rachael has a new book about Susanna Wesley. She just said, "Mom I'm reading about a woman who had 19 children and 8 of them died. Freaky."

Trying to deepen her thought pattern a bit, I said, "That would be so sad."

She quickly responded with, "If I had 19 kids I don't think I'd be sad if 8 of them died. 19 kids couldn't even fit in our tree house."

pokie finger

I just laid with Rachael as I tucked her in. She loves it when Gordon or I do that. Her love language is definitely spending quality time together.

As I laid beside her I wondered a few times if her eyes were open. As I wondered this I remembered a little habit of Christopher's when he was wee. He too liked it when I laid with him. I'd lay very still hoping he'd fall asleep before I left him. He laid very still wondering if I was asleep or awake. Ever so slowly he'd raise his hands to my face and gently stick his finger in my eye to see if it was open or closed.

He was such a wittle cutie.

A few photos

Before Braces

After braces.

My little Brownie. She has lots of badges on her sash now, but unfortunately the picture came before the badges.

Aren't my lil' ladies cute?

Bertha

One of my girls has a friend I'm not particularly fond of. Actually, I don't like her. That's much more honest. My daughter isn't all that fond of her either, yet Bertha (aka the friend) considers my daughter her BFF. (That's "best friend forever" for those of you who don't have adolescent daughters.)

Bertha is possessive, controlling, rude, and cruel. Although she likes one of my daughters, she's mean to the other two. I could write an extended essay on why I don't like Bertha, but that would belabor the point.

I can take a lot of abuse if it's directed toward me. But my mothering psyche is less regenerate. Tonight my kids, in a less-than-gentle way, drove that home. I only vaguely remember saying this horrible thing, so I can only guess that at the time I was mildly seething because Bertha had mistreated at least 2, maybe 3, of my daughters.

As the girls and I were baking cookies tonight, they were talking about Bertha and the things she says and does that so offends them. I tried to refocus them a couple times. This of course is hard for me because I am quite confident I dislike Bertha more than any of my girls. My efforts to refocus the conversation were futile, so I said, "You know girls, we shouldn't be so hard on Bertha...," blah, blah, blah.

Hannah reminded me of the phrase I'd forgotten. Accusingly she challenged, "Mom, you're the one who said she may be the anti-Christ."

My New Toy

I am a bad girl. I say stupid stuff to be funny all the time, and sometimes it backfires in ways that are less than pleasant. Happened today, a prime example.

I got a virtual spa for Christmas and have been living in the lap of luxury for a couple days. I sit in my leather recliner with my new body length massager and smile as the massaging waves move from my neck to my calves. I do not mean to sound erotic, but more than a couple jokes have been made about this new "toy." I also have a new fountain. So I lay on my massager, smiling and listening to my fountain, basking in the peaceful, feel-good experience. Within the confines of my own house, I have affectionately dubbed my massager, my vibrator. This was met with chuckles from my husband and mother-in-law, but my kids didn't get the joke, thankfully.

Today I was enjoying my massaging paradise, listening to my fountain gurgle, smiling as the sun cast its warm favor on my face when the dogs began to bark, alerting me that someone was approaching. I stretched upright and see all the tell-tell signs that approaching visitor was a solicitor. Solicitors annoy me. I maintain if I want to give money to a cause, I'll happily give it, and in which case I will seek out said cause without making them come to my door catching me with no money at my least convenient moment.

I get solicitors frequently and I abhor the exercise. I am nice, I am not one of those horrible people that scream and slam doors in the faces of solicitors. I do however, get annoyed with them. So much so, I have a NO SOLICITING sign on my front door. It gets no respect. They still ring my doorbell unapologetically.

My girls are somewhat savvy in getting rid of solicitors with a little admonition. Today when the dogs started their howling, Rachael came to the living room to look out the window to see who was approaching. I let out my ever so frequent and predictable, "Tell them no thank you and that you mother is unavailable." In the past, this has served me well.

I closed my eyes to try to recapture the massage salon mood, trying to block out the small talk at the front door. Hearing Rachael politely say, "I'm sorry but we're not interested," was when my smile returned. She very capably was handling the situation. I knew they would be on the merry way, and I was proud of my Rachael for her ability to send them on in kindness.

I drew my breath in exasperation when I heard the young gentleman ask her if her mother was home. Knowing this makes Rachael uncomfortable when pressed like this, I waited to see if she needed me to "rescue" her from the pushy solicitor.

With stoic reserve Rachael said, "I'm sorry she isn't available. She's on her vibrator."

3 Lovely Ladies

Happy Holidays from our home to yours.

Cold and Christmasy

Merry Christmas! We have had a wonderful wonderful day. It's been fun and relaxing. I hope your's has been as well.

Gordon and I have commented several times today about our girls being great gift givers. They obviously studied their subjects before buying gifts and gave every one gifts they will enjoy. This is saying a lot in this household. When Rachael, Hannah, and Deborah were much younger, they were selfish Christmas shoppers. Their unspoken motto was, "It's all about me." For example, once Deborah got Gordon pink lip gloss, Hannah got him red nail polish, and Rachael got him a pink tape dispenser. They were clearly hoping he would pass his treasures on to them. No longer! We've come a long way baby. It's been a fun, yet relaxing day.

Rachael Has A Job

Rachael started a paper route today. She has 85 houses that she delivers to 3 times a week. I admire this child. She is responsible and hard working.

Gordon and I both went with her for her first time today. He and I have very different ideas on how to navigate said paper route. My oh my, I thought it might turn into a fight, but Gordon's humor deflected my annoyance.

As he parked in the middle of the street to read the map that told which houses get the paper, I always announced when a car was coming -- much to his chagrin, I might add. Once he parked in the middle of the street on a curve. I thought I saw car lights, but because we were on a curve, I saw nothing in my mirror.

I asked him if there was a car and he replied. "I'm not worried about cars. If there is a car, I'll know about it a micro-second after you do."

Spirit Week

It's spirit week at school. My girls have donned some really weird stuff this week. Wacky hair day had Hannah wearing plastic spoons all over her head. Very very weird.

Today was pajama day. I made the girls new pajamas for the occasion. Rachael got leopard print, Hannah got cheetah print, Deborah had very bright stripes on. They were cute I must say.

This afternoon they burst in the back door yelling, "Mom we won! All three of us!" Deborah added, "And it's all because of you. We won because our pajamas were the best AND they were homemade!" She was so excited.

Their prizes were McDonald's coupons. They gave me credit for the win, but they never offered me any of their coupons. :-)

Rudy Plunks, Patty Pokes

Tonight dear Rachael is at a slumber party; her first slumber party with the girls from her youth group. Not to be left out, Hannah and Deborah are having their own party downstairs. I gave them $5 (I know, I'm cheap) and let them buy snacks at Safeway. They bought pop and chips. (Darn, I was wanting chocolate.)

So through these events, I've recollected about some of my kids quirky ways and I've smiled. I wonder if all kids make up words. My kids have a few words in their vocabulary that they've made up, and as far as I know, they don't even know they made them up. Sure, these words may exist elsewhere, but my girls have given new meaning to them.

Plunk. To my girls, plunk means poop, specifically animal poop. This started when Rachael and Hannah were very young, probably 2 and 3. I suspect, but cannot prove, that it began when they heard an animal pooh and it went "kerplunk" when it hit the ground. It's not unusual to hear one say something akin to, "That's so rude. Someone didn't pick up their dog's plunk."

Rudy. Rudy is a good little word that is a regular part of our family's vocabulary. Again it was born out of Rachael and Hannah's pre-school days. Rudy is a rude place, thing, or person. Usually it's a rude person. "Did you see what he did? He was such a rudy!"

When Deborah was born, an older lady from church took Rachael and Hannah to McDonalds for a little treat. Miss Leona was all smiles when she brought them home. She told me 3-year-old Hannah froze when they got inside McDonalds. Hannah looked around with a scowl and then informed Miss Leona that, "This McDonalds is a rudy." Of course Miss Leona hadn't a clue what she meant and asked Hannah to elaborate. "It doesn't have a slide." That made it a rudy.

Patty. What do you call the area at the top of your thighs, just below your buttocks? Is there a word to define that area? Well in our family, that is a patty, and I have no idea why or how that came to be. Several times my girls have wailed, "you hit me on my patty," after they were disciplined. In other words, "you missed my bum and got my upper thigh."

And a lady is definitely immodest if her patty is showing. That would also make her a rudy.

Poka Party. Staying up late, eating snack foods, maybe watching a movie or playing games; sounds like a slumber party, eh? But my girls think that's a poka party. Again, I don't know where that originated, but it's a regular expression with them.

Matter of fact, that is exactly what got me going on this tonight. Hannah and Deborah are currently enjoying their own little Poka Party downstairs. They're watching WILD, drinking cream soda, and eating chips.

If they'd asked, I would have suggested chocolate.

Rachael is Growing Up

Yesterday Rachael had her first visit to the orthodontist. I learned that braces are about twice as much as I was expecting. My mind was blown when I was told $6000. I wanted to say, "Forget the gold treatment, do you have a platinum plan?" So here we go.... Braces. She is so excited to get braces.

She is in a Jr High Youth Group. Two nights a week she goes to church, and loves it. Wednesday is Girls' Bible Study and Friday is a fun-time. One of the special things about Youth Group, is that I let her ride in the front seat. Because of air bags, she never gets to do that -- at least never before joining Youth Group. Little bits of freedom mean a lot to her.

For Youth Group, she tries to shed her little girl-hood, and be a youth instead. She wears clear lip gloss and brushes her hair all the way to church. She also wears lotion to smell good. She even took a purse tonight. Oh my little girl is growing up.

When I picked her up tonight, she came out the door and skipped all the way to the van. My little "youth" is still a little girl deep down.

Thursday Thirteen

I feel like some kind of thief when I type "Thursday Thirteen." It is not original. But I really like the concept. So hear we go again. Thursday Thirteen.

1. I joined a writers group. I hope to have fun, fun, fun, till my daddy takes the t-bird away.

2. I made soap the other night. Note to self and anyone else who plans to make soap: There is a GREAT BIG difference between fluid ounces and ounces in weight. I had never thought of that, but now I KNOW in no uncertain terms.

3. I had a huge confrontation with a teacher at the kid's school. She rebuked my 11- year-old-for her panties showing on the swing. In front of Rachael's male teacher, she said to Rachael in her snarky sarcastic way that I'm all too familiar with, "Rachael, it not like we want to see the pattern on your panties." Rachael was humiliated. My head about popped off in anger. That's because we have so much history with this woman. All I wanted from her was to recognize that it was inappropriate to shame Rachael like that. She didn't feel it was inappropriate. "You mean you want the whole school to see Rachael's panties?," she said GGGGGRRRRRRRRRRR. I snapped. I haven't snapped like that in years.

4. Tomorrow I'm going to talk to the principal. Really this is just the straw that broke the camel's back. We've had soooo many episodes like this. I haven't disliked someone like I dislike her in years.

5. Praying hard regarding my attitude.

6. Deborah told me today that Matthew called her a "retart." (Retard)

7. Deborah also said, "Tyson hurt my feelings. He said someone in my family is fat." Hummm, who could he have meant? I thought it sweet that Deborah didn't want to come out and name names. She's sensitive that way.

8. Bear is weasling his way into my heart. I haven't loved him like Frodo. Yesterday I accidentally shut the door on him (not too badly). He limped for a few minutes and I realized how much I loved him in those moments. Life is funny.

9. I had fun re-working the ribbons and lace at work today. I love organizing.

10. Gordon is good to me and he is wise. I could easily forget the principles that I'm fighting for regarding aforementioned teacher. He keeps bringing me back to that focus when I'm getting carried away on an emotional (ungodly) tangent.

11. I made Hannah a funky mirror tonight. I can wait to hang it while she's at school tomorrow. She will be so pleased to find it. She'll run out of her room as soon as she see it to hug me and say thanks.

12. I am like a kid in a candy store at the fabric store. I love the fabric, patterns, ideas....

13. I miss the tidiness of my last store, but this store is more "me."